I am fortunate to have many clever and talented friends. A quick yay, then, for Jane, who’s gone and won an award, and got on the front page of the ‘paper:
http://www.times.co.nz/front-page-feature/drama-show-wins.html
Ever-modest, Janey’s acceptance speech was:
“Being about a banker not seeing the real world around him, it wasn’t that difficult.”
So – wit and biting political satire as well as gong-busting talent. Marvellous 
Last night I nearly managed to burn down my flat using fish fingers. Nearly.
I keep meaning to say something before October disappears without a word. Plenty’s happened, but I can’t find a great deal to say much about it. Other people’s lives have seemed more eventful lately, not always for the right reasons. So, random thoughts, in the line of duty:
I’m sure I’ve missed something, or several somethings, but that’s what I (or, more accurately, you) get for not keeping up. But still, no harm done. I mean, no-one reads this shit, do they?
I’ve been procrastinating so much I haven’t had time to catch up with things here. Sorry about that. There’s only so much time you know. Anyway, I’ve left it long enough that I should be able to give the impression that I have been far too busy to write this, even if it isn’t entirely true. Or indeed at all.
So, since last I wrote, I’ve been to see some things (well, authors, to be fair) at the Edinburgh Book Festival, started a new job, bought a car and been to see one of my favourite bands for the very last time. Exciting eh? Somewhat, indeed, somewhat.
At the book festival I went to see Colin Thubron, and was sufficiently moved by his talk to immediately go next door to buy his new book just so I could get it signed by him. I’ve since read To A Mountain In Tibet, and it is excellent. Part travelogue, part elegy, it recounts his pilgrimage to Kailas in the wake, as it were, of the death of his mother, the last of his immediate family. It is, understandably, somewhat more personal and emotional than much of his work, and a refreshing change for it, in my opinion.
I also managed to catch Mark Tully, talking about his latest book, India: The Road Ahead, which discusses, as the title suggests, where India is heading in its rush to become one of the world’s leading economic powers. It is a conflicted tale, as ever with India, and (Sir) Mark’s inseparable affection for and frustration with India is evident, as always, as it is for many of us who cherish the place. It was wonderful to see him in the flesh at last.
I reflected later that what these two men had in common, for me, was that they seem to be some of the last representatives of a generation of writers, on travel or Asia or both, the like of whom we may never quite see again. Proper old literary gentlemen, and utterly charming.
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While I was in India, my friends JJ and Sara got married in Calgary which was, obviously, most excellent. Except that I, and (it turns out) lots of other people couldn’t get there. So, being even-handed types, they held a UK version of the ceremony in sunny Oxfordshire on, as luck would have it, the day after Cropredy.
So it was that Donald very kindly drove me the extra hour south of Banbury to reach the environs of Wantage (West Challow to be exact) where he dropped me at my guest house before heading back north. A quick change and a pot of tea later, and I was off to the nuptials.
The event was held at Lains Barn, just outside Wantage, and said barn provided a very English backdrop to proceedings:
…or nine, in fact, I now see. Ahem. I’ve been busy. Honest. My excuse, sticking to it.
Anyway, where were we? Well, I was in sunny Oxfordshire, a couple of weeks back now, on the annual pilgrimage to Cropredy. Different personnel this year: Donald was in attendance as usual, but Adele stayed at home, not fancying the long trip when six months pregnant. Bolstering numbers, however, were Mr and Mrs B, who were on a touring holiday of Englandshire with their two dogs, Polly and Archie. We gathered in Banbury the day before, as usual, and there was much rejoicing.
The following three days were spent basking in the sunshine (mainly), partaking of the fine local produce and taking in what was, again, for the most part a cracking bill (we’ll leave UB40 out of the discussion for these purposes, though we did meet someone in a pub on the Wednesday who was trying desperately to find a way to go solely to see them. Takes all sorts.) Highlights this year included the mental Hayseed Dixie, the awesome Seasick Steve (who had a certain John-Paul Jones on bass) and the knockabout precision of the Blockheads (with Guy Pratt, erstwhile Pink Floyd touring bassist, who Mr and Mrs B bumped into in the crowd, along with his mum), and of course the inimitable FC themselves, who opened the festival with a very short acoustic set on the Thursday, and closed it with their three-hour extravaganza on the Saturday. This year’s middle segment featured the entirety of Babbacombe Lee, as per their previous winter tour, which I’d missed on account of being somewhere warmer.
We all (well, apart from Mrs B) kept one ear on the cricket:
as England reached the summit of the ICC Test rankings. Marvellous.
On the Saturday evening, as we waited for Fairport to come on, we were treated to a beautiful sunset in one direction:
and a full moon rising in the other:
All in all, a fine weekend was had by all, and it was great to finally have the Bs there, after many years’ persuasion. The weather was as kind as it gets, and it was a welcome relief for me from the job-hunting stress I was suffering at the time. On the Sunday, Donald very kindly drove me an hour further south so that I could attend the UK leg of JJ and Sara’s wedding, more of which anon (anon meaning, in this case, probably next month, the way things are going…)
I’ve been meaning to update this for a few days now, since there I have news and pictures and such. But I have been having a complete chill out since Friday and have done little but listen to cricket on the radio and get some proper broadband installed (yay!) This afternoon I’m off to the book festival with my friend Kate (to see what, I know not) and then to a reception/garden party thing hosted by the OU (where we once worked together, many years ago).
Anyway, one piece of good news to share is that I found out on Friday morning that I have at last secured gainful employment, bringing to an end a job hunt that had become unreasonably stressful, hence the complete downing of tools over the weekend. I’ve got a contract with RBS in Edinburgh Park, just this side of Edinburgh, that lasts for almost a year, which is almost unheard of. It’s one stop on the train, so not much of a commute, and it’s as stable as an IT contract really gets. I am pleased. I am also mightily relieved.
So – I’m going to get back to the cricket, then I’ll head off for an afternoon’s culture and free drinks. If you’re really lucky, over the next day or two, I’ll tell you about my trip to sunny Oxfordshire last weekend.
Hello. I thought seeing as it was the last day of July I’d better say something, otherwise there’d be an unsightly gap on the history list. I could always have backdated it tomorrow, I suppose, but then I’d have just kept putting it off. Then again, how do you know I haven’t? Hmm.
Anyway, I have been a bit busy. I’ll keep it brief. Basically once I’d got back and seen people and caught up with myself, I started doing research on getting books published and soon realised that while it wasn’t ever going to be the road to riches (unless your name is Rowling), it seems that even with the fairest of fair winds and the best of luck, it would take a year, and still not give one enough to live on. It quickly became obvious that I would have to get a job, which meant that thoughts of bunking off to Canada for the autumn would have to be put aside (sorry Ashe et al – wouldn’t have been my ideal choice).
With that little slice of reality accepted, I realised I’d have to find a place to live. I fancied a change from Edinburgh, and in any case no-one I know lives there any more. So I’ve rented a flat in Linlithgow, a little way west of town, more country-fied and quieter. That was the relatively easy bit. The thing that’s really doing my head in is trying to find a new job. It’s demonstrating to me quite how out of touch I am, if nothing else. Will have to start doing some homework to get myself back up to speed a bit. If and when I manage to get something, other plans are forming, but more of those anon. And in the meantime, there’s always the book to finish. Not that I really know what “finished” means any more…
Oh, and just btw, have been following the cricket on the radio, not having a TV just now, and I have to say that the events surrounding the Ian Bell run out left me first dreading the depths of rancour to which the series would plummet, followed almost immediately by actual joy at the actions of MS Dhoni and his team. He didn’t have to withdraw the appeal – Bell was a lucky boy not to have his slackness punished – though I think it was the Right Thing To Do, and he was a proper gent about it. Well played, sir.
I may have mentioned that two of my three pairs of footwear didn’t really survive the trip in tip top condition. Something had to be done. At some point I shall address the issue of my knackered Merrells, but for now, let us deal with the sandals.
These were a pair of waterproof leather Teva sandals that I bought quite a long time ago and have worn to bits. They’ve done sterling service, and were definitely a good buy. But now, ho ho, it’s good-bye. They’ve been stitched back together by a Chaudi cobbler after they rotted through (one shouldn’t, apparently, wear sandals on sand), glued back together numerous times by me using lethal Indian super-glue, and finally the uppers have started developing holes and ruts that make them, finally, uncomfortable. They have earned their retirement:
Their replacements, or perhaps more kindly, successors, have just arrived. Since the Tevas were so comfy and generally excellent, I bought some more:
They do feel very comfy and they have that new shoe leather smell and everything. I shall give them an outing this afternoon. The best part is that they were, effectively, free. Y’see, I won £80 on the lottery the other weekend, and since these were in a sale at £59, they come without any of that tedious “how am I going to afford new sandals at the moment?” guilt attached. Yay!
Hello. So I’ve been back for a few days now and am starting to calm down after a couple of days’ very unexpected anxious tension, which made me feel like I had a chest infection. Combined with a couple of sleepless nights, I was feeling pretty rough and a bit muddled in the head. Most odd.
Still, things seem to be settling down gradually. I have been wearing jeans (very exotic!) for the past three days – luxury. I am being very well looked after chez Strachan, where I am insulating myself from the cold with copious tea and films about various forms of dangerous fauna from the imaginations of some of the worst-funded film directors of all time. Mongolian Death Worm, anyone?
Anyway, today I am heading over to the Mathesons’ place to have a sift through my post, which they have suffered to fall on their doormat for the past nine months. I am heartened in this task by the fact that I know there to be some money (from the HMRC) in there somewhere. I am crossing my fingers that what they have given, they do not take away (and some) by also having sent me an enormous bill… Later, myself and Donald will decamp to a hostelry for an ale or two, which will be necessary whichever way the mailbag falls.
Finally, I was cheered yesterday when, after two days’ search, I located my stash of underwear, which means I won’t have to go and buy a new lot after all. Woo. Jeans and pants, all in one week. Cup runneth over etc.
